


Swipe right and I can lie about how we met

by bubblewrappedfeelings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tinder, Confused Clarke, F/F, Humor, Latina Lexa, Possible smut, Romantic Comedy, Social Media, possible angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrappedfeelings/pseuds/bubblewrappedfeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an australian History of Art student living in London, Clarke tends to feel lonely sometimes. Despite considering herself straight, she is convinced by her roommate Raven to join Tinder in search of new friends... Boys and girls. However, her perception of her own sexuality is about to change forever when her phone freezes and she accidentally sends a Super Like to a mysterious brazilian journalist, Lexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it's a match

_ "Please, be hot" _

Swipe left. I'm not your trophy.

_ "My girlfriend and I are looking for some casual fun in the bedroom, hit us up :)" _

Swipe left again. Jesus, I'm not your fetish!

_ "I'm married, but it's been too long! lol I need some action - don't tell my wife" _

Swipe left, swipe left! Actually, I should swipe right and find a way to tell his wife about this. God, men are terrible. No, I can't handle that. Just swipe left, Clarke.

Don't get me wrong, some of those guys could be seen as interesting by most unwarned and unaware girls. You see, I'm the problem here: I'm too much of a feminist now to survive on Tinder. Maybe I should write some profile description in order to attract nicer guys… Or at least filter the really bad ones, let’s see.

_ Hey! I'm a 19 y/o History of Art student aaaand an australian living in London. No, I don't own a pet kangaroo (seriously, though, what's up with the stereotypes? Do you guys drink tea everyday at 5pm? Actually, don't answer that), but I am a hardcore feminist, so I suggest you keep your shit to yourself: I'm just here for a regular conversation and some new friends. Anyway, I'm a wannabe photographer, so I guess you can follow my Instagram if you like that sort of thing: @clarkegriffin.jpg _

Now I should probably introduce myself to you. Besides all of the useless information my Tinder bio revealed, my name is Clarke Griffin. I was born 19 years ago in Melbourne, this big city in Australia. I'm currently living and studying in London at the UCL as an History of Art major: it's been a year since I first got here and I still have one more to go. Before you ask, I've been single for two years now, ever since I dumped my ex-boyfriend-he-who-must-not-be-remembered Finn.

So why am I on Tinder? You see, being a foreign student in a huge, busy city like London, I tend to feel lonely sometimes. I have some friends at my university, but I can only rely on one of them, Raven Reyes. I'm really close to my mom as well, but my relationship with Mrs. Abby Griffin is currently based on Skype and we only get to see each other when I go home on special occasions. Do you see my problem? I need more people to hang out with… So i decided to give this weird app a go, but as you can probably tell by now, things weren't working out the way they were supposed to.

"When you're finally done swiping left on every single guy on our 30 km radar, you should add girls to your search", a voice tells me. That is Raven, my sassy and very american roommate. How does she know what I am doing? My phone's screen isn't even facing her. "Honey, yes, a few of your thoughts were actually voiced during the past hour. Why are you giving me that look? Searching for girls could work well for you, since you keep telling me that you're only looking for friends on that thing. Unless you're lying and in search of a bae at campus...".

For fuck's sake, just get her to stop talking. "OK, you win. But I'm only doing so to prove that I'm totally just aiming at friendships here. Jesus, Raven, sometimes I'm not so sure if you love me at all, you're such a bully". What can I say? She really was. Did I mention that she was the one creating my Tinder account in the first place? She told me I needed the kind of love she couldn't provide.

"You're totally right on that, I don't love you. I don't love weirdos that talk to themselves at 1am on a school night knowing I have a Statistics test in a few hours. I won't mind if you keep your screen brightness low, but please shut up. Some of us have bigger issues than Pablo Portinari's art or whatever it is you've been seeing in class", Raven replies.

"Darling, it's either Pablo Picasso or Candido Portinari. As much as I'd like it, they haven't reproduced nor merged into one", I laugh, letting out an usual snort.

"Whatever, but thanks again for the Weirdo 101". If I didn't know her well enough, maybe I wouldn't be able to notice her tiny smirk.

Given how much I trust her, I decide to give it a go on her stupid idea. Even in the worst scenario possible, we'd still have some funny stories. With a weird feeling on the top of my stomach, I touch my phone's screen a few times to allow girls into my Tinder feed.

Wow, I didn't know this thing would reload everything. Not that I give any fucks about the vanished guy I was supposed to rate next. OK, but the next one is still a guy. And that's also another guy. And the one after him.

Maybe I did something wr- oH WAIT I CAN SEE A GIRL. Hey, beautiful, are you australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications. See, now I'm just partially biting my pillow to prevent me from laughing at my own joke that should never leave the depths of my mind. I'm so glad Raven can't read my thoughts, she wouldn't understand that I was only kidding, not actually flirting with a girl. I don't know what the hell is up with americans and humor, seriously.

Nah, that Ashley girl didn't like me back… No match. Didn't she appreciate my profile? Was it the tea joke in the bio? I miss the old days when people took innocent jokes well. There he goes, another guy. “Please, be latina”, he says. Well, fuck you, mister stereotypes. I’m not even latina and I already want to kick your ass.

Oh, there she goes. Alexandra, 21. We have a few teachers as friends in common - is she in my class? No, I’ve never seen her. The first name on our list is Ana, so there is no Alexandra. I still can’t see her picture, though, it’s not loading. I can’t put into words how much I hate my residence’s internet… Well, not that her picture matters, I’m just here for friends.

I should probably explain where I’m living, right? It’s a students residence located in Euston, a neighborhood in rainy central London. I have to share my room with sassy, bully and grumpy Raven, my favorite Mechanical Engineering student. We also have a communal kitchen shared with a few other loud people, but at least we get our own tiny bathroom just for the two of us.

I really like it here and- Wow, I can now see her pictures. It took my phone a ridiculously long time, but there is the brunette Alexandra. I can’t tell if her eyes are blue, grey or green… OK, so the second photo just answered my question: they’re green. And her lips, though. They’re so full, bright and red… Slightly curved into a smirk. I wonder how swollen they can get.

HEY, don’t get me wrong, I know what you’re thinking. I’m honestly just looking for friends, but being straight doesn’t keep me from admiring other people. After all, I’m an Art major, right? I can recognize beauty when I see it, and that doesn’t mean I want to hook up with Monalisa. I should probably check Alexandra’s profile.

_ “Brazilian lesbian, 21, recent-grad journalist in search of a job in london. Swipe right and I can lie to your friends and family about how we met :) And if you like my accent, I can even teach you portuguese”. _

Smooth much, Alexandra? Jesus. She is so intimidatingly beautiful, and yet I hate the fact that there are only two pictures of her. OH WAIT, HER INSTAGRAM IS CONNECTED TO HER PROFILE. I didn’t even know you could do that, how nice. I’m willing to be her friend, but I’m just gonna check her Instagram before swiping right on her Tinder account - what if she doesn’t like me back? Then she is gone forever… So I should probably overanalyze her photos first.

OK, now I’m slightly frustrated: @l3xa hasn’t updated her Instagram’s feed in ages. What, is she too much of a hipster? And why isn’t she in any of those pictures? I get the fun of photographing landscapes and cool places, but she could show her face a few times, at least. Mysterious looking hipster with those lips and green eyes…

Oh, that’s great, now my phone is completely frozen. Raven is lucky to be asleep, otherwise I would kick her ass for dragging me into this. Why is Tinder still such an unstable app?

I don’t even care anymore, I just want to unfreeze it and go to sleep. I NEED TO SET MY ALARM ON, PHONE. WHY DO YOU HATE ME? Now I’m just randomly clicking everywhere, hoping to find my precious and safe homescreen again. Thanks a lot, Alexandra. How do I say YOU OWE ME A NEW PHONE in portuguese?

OK, seems like we’re back to her Tinder profi- FUCK, I ACCIDENTALLY SUPER LIKED HER. I SHOULDN’T HAVE OVERCLICKED MY SCREEN. Can I get it back? For fuck’s sake, Tinder, just let me undo it. Oh, apparently I’d have to pay to undo it, what a mafia. That’s so great.

Seriously, though, why is super like even a thing? What kind of delusional dream was going on their heads when they invented this? And what kind of desperate ass actually uses it in a non-accidental way?

Looking on the bright side of this, at least Alexandra didn’t enjoy my profile. I’ve never been so relieved. God, thank you for this blissful moment of rejection.

Raven always understood technology better than I do, but of course she is sound asleep by now. Thanks, babe. I should just scream my mind out and wake her up. Wait, what is that?

**> >> IT’S A MATCH! You and Alexandra have liked each other. Send her a message! <<<**

No, no, no. Fuck my life. Fuck everything. Raven, help me. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck my life to infinity and beyond, I can’t believe this.

I guess I can pretend it never happened, right? I can uninstall the app right now and my profile will probably leave her list. Yes, that’s a great idea! Off to my phone’s menu now, I’m so glad I found a quick and non-painful way of running away.

**> >> Alexandra has sent you a message <<<**

How come she is already talking to me? I thought we should wait at least half an hour before messaging our matchs here. Way to look desperate, Alexandra. Well, it won’t hurt to check her message, right? At least Tinder doesn’t show when texts are seen, so I’m safe. I can read it and still safely uninstall the app.

**Alexandra:** _ So… You super like me, huh?  _ (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Any chance you guys know how to say FUCK in portuguese? Because fuuuuuuuck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as a brazilian journalist and a previous London student that relied too much on Tinder, I think I can relate to both of our girls (I mean, besides being queer af). I'm also really excited about writing Lexa as a latina young woman! I think I'm full on motivated about this story, but if you want to help me on that, leave your kudos and comment down below. In case you're wondering, I'm mrsclexagriffin on Tumblr x) Cheers


	2. well-versed in profanity

I know I probably shouldn't be so sassy on my first interaction with the girl, but I can't help myself: I had a stressful day, folks. Besides, where is the lie? She did super like me, after all.

 **Clarke:** _It was an accident, I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to click on that._

So now we've known each other for 2 or 3 minutes and she's already apologized. Girl, where's your self-love? You deserve more than that. And man, isn't she cute? I mean, don't get me wrong, she looks stunningly hot in every single one of her six Tinder profile pictures. But I'm talking about cute-cute, adorably cute - the kind of cute you'd happily introduce to your family, hold her cute hand for several hours in front of them… And, of course, have some cute and hot make out session with in your room when your relatives think you're just getting them more DVDs. It happens.

It's a shame I can't do any of that, though. Not only are my relatives 10.000 km away from me, in Brazil, but my parents have been missing for years now: they chose to live with a different tribe and abandoned me when I was 15. From that moment on, I had to figure out how to survive by myself in the Amazon Jungle.

DUDE, I can't believe you actually bought that. I'm so glad I'm here to break those dumb stereotypes in your head! No, latin americans don't live out in the jungle and, unfortunately, very few traditional tribes are still resisting with their cultures intact, but that's an issue in every part of America. The Amazonia itself is 3.000 km away from where I was born, this big town called São Paulo with its busy 12 million people - 30 million if we're counting minor cities around it and 44 million in the whole state. Add that to the other 25 states and Brasília DC, our capital, and we're currently more than 200 million brazilians. So shall we stop acting like we're all the same? THAT WOULD BE A+.

Nope, there isn't a single beach in São Paulo city (bro, that's Rio de Janeiro, it's different) and many studies have shown that paulistanos see the sun as many times as people in London. So I might as well just call England home… The biggest difference is that we're more crazy about coffee than tea. We're millions, we're busy and we can't kill single cockroaches, let alone survive in the jungle.

With that being said, why can't I introduce cute girls to my parents? Well, I lost them. My mom, Thais, had pre-ecclampsia when she was pregnant with me, so she didn't survive labor. Her blood pressure went super high and I had to be born a few weeks earlier, otherwise I wouldn't have made it as well. I had the most loving dad in the world, Daniel, but he was already a few years older than her. He had been fighting against pancreatic cancer for as long as I could remember, and eventually passed away when I was 8. I was obviously devastated, but he had enough time to prepare me for it, so it ended up feeling more like the rest he deserved so much. He was the one who gave me my nickname, Lexa - some people had trouble pronouncing my name as Aleksandra, since the letter X can be read differently in portuguese. So he figured I could be Lexa instead.

Oh, come on! Stop pouting, I'm fine. It's been a really long time. After it all happened, I was raised by my 4 grandparents. The maternal ones are Guido and Therezinha - yes, her name was registered in a diminutive form, don't ask. You should have heard her trying to spell it to people when we went to Germany… Man, she was super mad, because even though germans have huge-ass words for everything, they still couldn't figure out her name. She's an absolute hero: almost completely deaf since 14 years old, she worked like hell to raise my mom into a kind, compassionate and empathic woman. Grandpa has great advice and a honorable mustache.

On my dad's side, the heroes are called Ana and Manoel. They're fast approaching the legendary mark of being 100 year olds, which is absolutely incredible. She is currently 93 and he is 98. He has been diagnosed with leukemia a few years ago, but neither him nor grandma know that. There isn't a safe treatment for people his age, as the doctors believe it would just make him exhausted and risk his remaining life. So we all agreed on not telling them, it would only scare them with a big word unnecessarily. Grandma still doesn't know how to read or write - when she was younger, her father believed the only reason a girl would want to learn it was to write letters to naughty boyfriends. As an independent grown-up, she felt insecure about entering a classroom for the first time at her age. So I grew up happily helping her with her letters and e-mails to her favorite novela writers and actors. I had a cool childhood, I guess.

Of course I have a best friend back home: my cousin Dado, nickname for Eduardo. He is 4 years younger than me, but we basically grew up together. I even taught him how to ride a bike and a skate, but our favorite thing to do together still is playing futebol (football for my fellow brits, soccer for… Any americans out there). Not that we are any great at it, but I guess we're good enough to enjoy it and get a few bruises. He is currently a huge 17 year-old boy and a basketball player (he's 1m94… Impressive 6 feet 36 inches tall), besides being a complete school nerd and a major Beatles fan. And yes, I keep telling him that there are much better bands out there, but I guess he likes to keep it mainstream. Whatever.

As a major coward, I couldn't tell my grandparents that I was a lesbian. I was scared of how they would react to it, because even though they're incredibly supportive of me, they also come from a complete different background and - let's face it? - a different world. However, I somehow found the nerve to tell Dado during one of our football sessions a few years ago: "Dado, I'm gonna say it as fast and easy as I can: I only like girls". Do you wanna know his answer?

"Oh, yeah? Well, I bet you still can't score a goal against me, Lexa", he told me with a wink, proceeding to give me the ball. Easy as that. He also adored my first and only girlfriend so far, Costia. But let's save her for another chapter, I've broken enough fourth walls on this one. Damn it, I forgot to answer the cute girl!

 **Alexandra:** _Are you sure you didn't subconsciously want to talk to me? Was it all accidental? First you say you don't own a pet kangaroo, now this… Dude, don't go breakin' my heart again_

◐

I have to admit: Alexandra is cocky, but she knows how to do it with style. I mean, you all saw my internal freak out a few moments ago, I'm a loser. She, on the other hand, manages to deliver an interesting, pouty and cocky answer... All at once! People like this should come with warnings, fuck.

 **Clarke:** _I wish I had a pet kangaroo at home, but you'd be fuckin surprised to know that it's really difficult to have any pets in Australia. In some cases, you're not even allowed a cat at home. You'd need licenses and shit_

◐

So Clarke's got a potty mouth, huh? That should be fun. But she didn't answer my question at all, how sneaky of her. Wait, why am I still holding my pee?

"Porra", I cry as I hit my right foot in two different pieces of furniture on my way to the toilet.

"Aw, thanks! Cheers to you too!". OK, I should probably tell you that I have a flatmate, Anya, a panamanian girl who was raised in Argentina. The best and only family I could ever find in London. The thing is: in spanish, the word porra can mean lots of stuff (and believe me, we've googled it together when confusion first hit us), like cheers, bat, weed, hell, lottery, bomb… For some spanish-speakers in the world, it can even mean a type of fried sweet bread.

I could tell you what porra means in portuguese, but I won't. You should google translate it and live happily ever after. What I can say in advance, though, is that it definitely doesn't mean fried sweet bread… Unless we're talking about the cream it might leave on someone's mouth, if you know what I mean (google it, I've said enough!). That was the dirtiest joke ever, but I'm so proud of myself.

"Jajajajajaja", I fake-laugh in reply, really stressing the letter J. That's also an inside joke we have: brazilian people don't write their laughs like that. In portuguese, J sounds like… J, not H or R. But since people from Brazil and Argentina like to mock each other (we all do get along well, though. No casualties, just sassiness), and Anya was half-argentine, so…

"No me jodas, forro", she told me with a smirk. My visits to Buenos Aires have already revealed me that forro means asshole to them. "Sabe que posso te joder a qualquer hora", I answer instantly, in a good portuñol mix, throwing my friend a kiss. And I must say: despite our usual banters and fake-flirting, we're just really good friends. No benefits. We're both recent-grad journalists, and that's probably the toughest career one can pursue anywhere in the world right now. The internet has been changing everything on journalism itself, so writing offices are either being radically modified or shut down completely. I don't have a formal job, but I'm currently working on several freelance stuff, such as interviewing and writing about sports.

Anya, on the other hand, is working as a PR for this TV showrunner, James Rottenborg. She's going crazy in the last few weeks because the jackass decided to kill off a lesbian on his show, and LGBT people are finally rising against these lazy, violent and hateful tropes. Anya also happens to be a full-on lesbian, so you should see her face whenever she speaks to Mr. Bury Your Gays on the phone. But anyway, you probably know that story already, let's move on.

Holding my phone carefully during my pee - I've had enough dropping accidents, thanks! -, I turn my attention to Clarke, the kangaroless australian cutey.

 **Alexandra:** _Babe, it's great to see you're well-versed in good old profanity and sass, but you didn't answer my question_ :(

◐

I can't believe she is babe-ing me already. And come on, "well-versed in profanity"? Yeah, I can tell that you're a journalist. She is undeniably hot (like I said before, I'm straight, but not narrowed. Fuck, and also not blind), but I need to cut whatever this is.

 **Clarke:** _Babe? Rly? lmao Before you jump to any conclusions here, Alexandra, you should know that I'm only looking for friends on Tinder. And you're the one to talk about sass ;)_

That should give her a warning. And screw me, WHY AM I STILL NOT SLEEPING? I'm certainly not well-versed in making good choices, damn it. I guess future-me will have to deal with it. She can blame the brazilian _babe_.

 **Alexandra:** _Don't worry, Clarke! I definitely won't jump into anything you don't want me to, that won't be a problem. Would you mind if I introduced you to the best friend you could ever ask for? Hi, super-like-Clarke, you can call me Lexa. At your service._

I still need to figure out how to swear in portuguese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Clarke and Lexa will start interacting more from now on, I just needed to introduce them properly and bring some context to their lives first. Now that it's done, things should flow better (will you have faith in me, fandom?).  
> Hey, that was deep with Lexa's backstory, right? I just told you guys some bits of my own life, except that my parents are not Thais and Daniel (and my folks are very well and alive, thank god). But everything about my wonderful cousin and grandparents is true, despite the fact that grandma Ana and grandpa Guido are reading this elsewhere in heaven now. Oh, and Dado will definitely be back to the story, but I can't tell ya about it. I was really happy with your feedback for the 1st chapter, so leave your comment down below if you want to send me some love, cookies, insults or whatever: I'll appreciate it either way. If you're on Tumblr, I'm mrsclexagriffin <3 bye and thanks


	3. friends share

In a not-so-surprising turn of events, the morning is foggy and wet in London. Once again, England makes no effort at all to help me with my struggle of going to class after sleeping for less than 4 hours. There isn’t a single active cell in my whole body, but God should save the queen, right? There’s no need to save poor fucked up Clarke.

You’d be shocked to know that I freaked out after Alexandra’s… Well, after Lexa’s last message. I blame my tired stupid brain on that, but I couldn’t think of any clever answer besides pretending to be dead - or at least sound asleep, as far as she knows. And she doesn’t have to know that I spent the next couple of hours staring at the ceiling. Actually, I hope Raven never finds out about it either, can you imagine? She would give my irresponsible ass a full lecture.

Speaking of the devil, that bitch left for her class without even waking me up on time for mine. She probably mentioned something about a test last night, though… But everything feels like a blur. Girl was probably too nervous to notice me drooling on the other bed. My head is aching like the apocalypse itself, and my left eye is twitching. I just lowkey hope that I don’t die on my way to campus. No, I’m not highkey hoping for anything: that would cost me too much energy and I can’t even swear on upper cases now. FUCK LEX… See? I can’t. So let's keep it safe and lowkey.

Well, I take sweet comfort from the fact that Lexa is probably feeling ignored right now. That’s gotta mean something to my new cocky friend, right? OK, stop worrying: I’ll text her back after class… My bus is finally coming. Crap, where is my Oyster travelcard? It should definitely be somewhere in my bag, but it’s quite obvious that the universe is playing with my neck again. Oh, there it is. Turns out it was just hidden inside a tiny mirror I carry around.

A mirror I shouldn’t be carrying around today, that’s my first thought when I actually check my awful reflex on it. At least I’m on my way to campus, where I finally arrive after a few minutes of fighting the urge to sleep on the bus.

**Mom:** _Good morning, sunshine! :) :D <3 xD xP =) x) S2_

As you can probably tell, Abby Griffin has recently discovered her newest love affair. No, I'm not talking about Kane, her great boyfriend. I’m talking about her new emojis obsession.

**Clarke:** _Cheers, mom! I’ve been missing u a lot this week :( i wish i could hug u and eat your lasagna_

**Mom:** _Speaking of which… *texts photo of warm lasagna*_

**Clarke:** _Damn it, different time zones. I wish it was lunch time here already. Anyway, i just got to class, talk to u later! x_

As soon as I take my seat in front of my best friend in class, Monty, he pokes me on my shoulder. Dude, hold your gossip fire! I’ve been here for five fucking seconds and you’re already trying to pass me a note. But who am I kidding? I’m a curious piece of shit about his notes, let’s see.

“What the hell happened to your hair? Clarkey, you should shower before coming to class”.

Rude. But he’s right, so I laugh while giving him the finger. Monty is a sweet pumpkin pie of a boy, this great asexual friend with a huge heart. I'm ready to murder whoever tries to break his precious heart.

◐

"When are you planning on visiting us, Lexa? We all miss you, especially grandmas and grandpas", he tells me on Skype with a pout.

"I have no idea, Gus. I've been completely snowed under with work lately. Besides, I'm gonna need money if I want to pay you guys a visit anytime soon, which is why I've been accepting so many jobs recently". That's my uncle Gustavo, Dado's father. Speaking of the devil…

"Is she scared of losing for me on basketball?", I hear my cousin's dorky voice in the distance.

"I don't even play basketball, dumbass. Have you already forgotten everything you knew about me? Besides, you're probably 3 meters tall by now. That would never be fair".

"EXCUSES, LEXI!", he screams, appearing from out of nowhere and shoving his nose on the camera. "But seriously, though. I need my best friend".

I'm about to answer to him when my phone vibrates right next to me, Tinder icon on screen. I'm intimate enough with my peers to check the notification right away, ignoring them for a few seconds.

**Clarke:** _Nice to meet you, Lexa, but slow the fuck down. I can't be friends with anyone unless I know their views on important stuff. These are difficult times_

I have a hard time hiding my stupid grin when it comes, making it easy for my favorite men to notice it.

"Man, I was missing those heart-eyes. Who is that? Do you have a special someone there? Is it the girl from Argentina? Lexa, how do you expect us to accept someone from that country? Has she teached you how to tango yet?", I hear a voice asking from my computer, making me laugh out loud like I haven't laughed in a really long time.

"Dado, cala a boca. Let her speak about her new crush", my uncle jokes, telling my cousin to shut up.

"You guys are the worst", I reply, actually tearing up from all the laughter.

◐

Lexa definitely doesn't mind waiting before texting back, given that she replied in less than 3 minutes.

**Alexandra:** _My views on what, LGBTQA rights? Dude, i totally support homophobia, i just can't stand these gaaaaaaayz. I swear they don't even want rights anymore, they're just looking for privileges ugh_

I am laughing during lunch, but I dare you not to laugh when a lesbian tells you something like that. I have to admit that I am enjoying her sense of humor.

**Alexandra:** _By the way, bom dia! :) How are you doing so far?_

**Clarke:** _ I gather that that means "good day", right? _

There's no way in hell I'm telling her that I'm feeling tired because she kept me up last night.

**Alexandra:** _ I told you i would teach you portuguese. Are you a fast learner for other stuff too? _

**Clarke:** _ And i wasn't exactly talking about LGBTQA rights, even tho i appreciate your joke. I meant like your political views _

**Alexandra:** _ Centre-left, here or at home. And i see that you have a thing for avoiding my questions _

**Clarke:** _ Ok, so we agree on that. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't vote for Trump in my country _

**Alexandra:** _ Your country? But i thought you were australian. Gurl, you lying on your bio? _

**Clarke:** _ I was testing you, well done. I'm still a proud aussie _

**Alexandra:** _ Tbh, i'm just offended that you think that i would ever vote for Trump anywhere in the world. I'm a latina, what the hell _

**Clarke:** _ Yeah, i should've thought about that. So there are no crazy conservative ppl in Brazil? _

**Alexandra:** _ Unfortunately, yes, there are. But let's not talk about that now. You've asked your question, now it's my turn. And i hope you don't ignore this one _

Do you know what I absolutely hate? When people tell me they're about to ask me something. JUST ASK OUTRIGHT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE! I hate this fucking mystery, I can already feel my anxiety building up.

**Clarke:** _ Yeah? _

Gotta keep it casual. Pretend I'm not hyperventilating with fear of what she's gonna ask.

**Alexandra:** _ Can i have your number? I want to show you something, but we cant send any pics on tinder _

Show me what? SHOW ME WHAT????

**Clarke:** _ What, are you about to send me nudes or something? Excuse me? _

But I decide to give her my number on the next text. I'm not expecting her to send anything like that… At all. But either way, I should probably find some space on my phone's memory. Just in case, you never know.

**Alexandra:** _ I don't send nudes to friends, hon. That's what you wanted to be, right? _

I guess?

◐

With Clarke's number saved on my phone, I text her a selfie hugging my stuffed animal… A squid. A squid plush toy, to be more accurate.

**Clarke:** _Soooo cute! But why on earth did you want to send me that?_

**Lexa:** _ Because friends share stuff. That's the only thing i still have from my parents _

And then I tell her my story. How I accepted fate when my dad passed away, only to freak out a few years later. I'm not proud of that, but I've been a teenage rebel. I blamed the world for what happened to my parents, so I threw their stuff away. The only thing left is this stupid squid toy that was rescued by Gus before I could place my devious hands on it.

**Clarke:** _I'm so sorry to hear about all of that. And when did you stop rebelling?_

**Lexa:** _I had this girlfriend, Costia. But do you mind if we don't talk about her now?_

◐

Something about the way Lexa just mentioned this girl seems off. I also notice how she didn't treat her as an ex… Unless they're still together (I'd be fine about it, I swear!!!), I have a feeling that she lost another loved one besides her parents.

**Clarke:** _ No, i dont mind! Sorry for asking that, i didnt mean to be invasive _

**Lexa:** _Dont worry about that! I'm actually enjoying this sudden interest you're showing_

**Clarke:** _Do you have any pics of you with your dad? Can i see him?_

**Lexa:** _Sure, i'm sending you the one i use as my phone's wallpaper! Hold on_

A minute later, the cutest photo ever shows up on our chat. There's a tall guy, so that's her dad. I can also see a smiling little girl holding a football under her left foot and… A Quick Draw McGraw plush toy on her tiny hands.

I immediately remember my own Quick Draw McGraw plush toy, which is resting in my closet in London. My mom insisted and I agreed on bringing it to England so that I wouldn't forget how home feels. Fuck, I used to love that Hanna-Barbera show when I was growing up. So it was probably important to Lexa as well…

**Clarke:** _Do you still have that toy?_

**Clarke:** _I mean, the quick draw mcgraw one_

**Lexa:** _I don't. It was one of the things i threw away_

Fuck. 

**Lexa:** _Why? Do you like the show? I love it, its called Pepe Legal in Brazil! Do you remember that episode in which ppl mistake him for Horseface Harry? Man, that's still hilarious af to me_

Was I about to do it?

**Lexa:** _My dad and i used to roleplay their lines, that was fun_

Yes, I was about to do it.

You see, Quick Draw McGraw was important to me when I was growing up. I love that plush toy and it does remind me of home.

But I still have my family alive to make new memories with me.

**Clarke:** _I have one too and i brought it to london. Where can we meet tomorrow? It's yours_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this bonding time between them! Now let's get ready for the meeting we've been looking for :D If you like this story, please feed me with some kudos. I also love knowing what you think, so leave your comments down below with your positive (or negative, who knows) feedback. You can now find me on janelovespetra.tumblr.com (my previous url is still saved, tho) <3


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